


cafeterias and church-girls

by kirargent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With all the mellow boredom that comes with the job, Claire does her best emulation of a cow methodically chewing its cud. She's in a field. There's a fly buzzing around her butt. She's alone, bored and droopy-eyed, and there's most definitely not a prim little antagonizer smiling at her from across the high school lunch table.</p><p>Hael leans in, eyes gleaming. Claire wonders if a cow would tolerate the crappy cafeteria hamburger she's eating right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cafeterias and church-girls

**Author's Note:**

> Happy late birthday [maddi](http://holyhael.tumblr.com)!!! This was supposed to have a second part, but I got really discouraged when I learned we'd have a canon Claire before your birthday, so I sort of.... didn't keep writing. But I hope you enjoy this anyway!! I'm really sorry if the characterization doesn't mesh with the real Claire, I wrote this before that episode ;__;
> 
> You're a fabulous princess and I hope this year treats you as such :)
> 
> [feat gender neutral Raphael woot woot]
> 
> fic warnings: casual ableist language

"Hello."

Claire looks up from her sandwich, sees a mustard yellow sweater and a wide, hopeful smile, and looks right back down again. But that Hael girl is nothing if not persistent.

"Can I sit here?"

Claire shrugs. She takes another bite of her ham and cheese. Taking that as an invitation (which it most definitely was  _not_ ), Hael sits down across the table from Claire. Daintily, she smoothes her dress down over her legs and adjusts her yellow sweater. Claire makes the mistake of looking up, and is met with the smile she hates most in the world, the one that's brighter than the sun on a summer afternoon, but somehow still enchantingly shy.

“Your church cronies kick you out? Find you practicing witchcraft in the basement or kissing girls?” Claire asks. If she were still alive, her mother would chastise her for being  _rude_  and  _abrasive_ —but her mother's not alive, and Claire's in the habit of saying whatever she damn well pleases.

“No,” Hael says. As usual, she's smiling brightly. Claire munches disinterestedly at her sandwich. Hael, as usual, doesn't take the hint. “I just thought I'd come sit by you,” she says. “You were over here all by yourself.”

“Yeah, you think there might be a reason for that?” Claire flicks her eyes up quickly enough to catch Hael's look of uncertainty, and she stifles a smile of her own as she returns her full attention to her sandwich. The bread is kinda stale. She should stop by the grocery store on her way home from school. She's running low on salt, too. She'll buy a few jumbo bags along with her bread. That ghost last week up in Acme really cleaned out her stores.

“How has your morning been?” Hael asks politely. As she speaks, she unzips her insulated blue lunchbox and pulls out a tupperware container with a sandwich. Upon its opening, Claire can smell that it's peanut butter.

“Awesome,” Claire says. “Got held after English for calling my teacher a fat old misogynist, and got reminded ever so kindly that I'm failing History. You?”

Hael looks affronted. “Well,” she says sternly, “you should know by now that you shouldn't call anyone names, especially not your teachers.”

Claire rolls her eyes.

Hael takes a delicate bite of her peanut butter and jelly.

They eat in silence until the bell rings.

“He deserved it!” Claire calls as Hael makes her way to the doors. It's disgusting that she feels the need to justify herself to a prissy little church-girl, but she can't seem to stop herself.

Hael turns back. “What?”

“My English teacher.” Half a grin finds its way to Claire's mouth, uncalled for. “He was asking for it. Really hates women, that one.”

Lips parted but brow furrowed, Hael shakes her head, turns on her heel, and leaves the lunchroom.

 

~

 

“Why didn't you sit with us today, Hael?” Hester asks as they walk to their next class. Hael hooks her hands through the straps of her backpack, readjusting its heavy weight on her shoulders. She shrugs.

“There was someone else I wanted to sit by.”

“That Claire girl?” Hester sounds disbelieving. “Why?”

Another shrug. “I don't know,” Hael says. Somewhere in her chest, she feels a weird combination of embarrassment and frustration at Hester's question. “I don't know,” she repeats, a little defensive. “Does it matter?” From the corner of her eye, she can see Hester's eyebrows rise.

“I guess not,” Hester says. “Just wondered.”

“Okay then.” Speeding up a little, Hael walks ahead of Hester the rest of the way to class.

 

~*~

 

On Thursday, there's not even a “Hello” in warning: Hael just sets her lunchbox down opposite Claire, folds herself neatly into her seat, and smiles.

With all the mellow boredom that comes with the job, Claire does her best emulation of a cow methodically chewing its cud. She's in a field. There's a fly buzzing around her butt. She's alone, bored and droopy-eyed, and there's most definitely not a prim little antagonizer smiling at her from across the high school lunch table.

Hael leans in, eyes gleaming. Claire wonders if a cow would tolerate the crappy cafeteria hamburger she's eating right now.

“Do you have Mr. Wolf for English?” Hael asks.

“Uh,” Claire says. She puts her hamburger down. “What?”

“Do you have Mr. Wolf for English?” Hael repeats. “Because I was talking to my sister last night, and she's graduated now, but I told her what you said about your English teacher, and she asked if you had Mr. Wolf, because if you do then she thinks you were right to call him what you did.”

Claire blinks a few times. “Um,” she says. “Uh, yeah, I do have him.” Of their own accord, her lips twitch with a smile. “Smart sister you have.”

Hael nods enthusiastically. “Anna's brilliant,” she says. She sounds like a proud mother, Claire thinks. It's ridiculous. “She's spending a year in Brazil doing service work before she comes back for college.”

“Cool,” Claire mumbles, if only because there's not an un-dick-ish way to insult service work.

“Yeah,” Hael says warmly. “Anyway, she said you were right about Mr. Wolf. She had him twice while she was here, and she hated him.”

“Smart girl,” Claire says again. From there, she tries to go back to her bored chewing, but she finds herself antsy, questions building up on her tongue.

She makes it almost four minutes before she breaks.

“What kind of work is your sister doing in Brazil?”

The smile Hael gives her is blinding. For a second too long, Claire forgets to hate it.

 

~

 

The Miltons' house is only seven blocks from the high school, so Hael walks home.

Before Anna graduated, she always allowed Hael and Castiel a seat in her car, but Michael doesn't offer the same courtesy. Cas gets rides from his friend Dean, who has a shiny black muscle car from his dad. And Hael—Hael walks.

It's spring, but there's still a definite bite to the air: the tip of Hael's nose and her cheeks are cold to the touch; the wind cuts through her thin sweater with ease. Soon she'll warm from the constant mild exertion of her walk—but for now, she's warmed from the inside with a soft-burning joy. It's a joy born of what Hael is unwilling to yet label a  _crush_ , and so for now she will say she's happy because she's having success befriending the outcast girl who pretends she doesn't want companionship.

Claire and she talked nonstop all through their shared lunch period—about Anna's work in Brazil; about the corner of Hael's room that's been conquered by an easel and an army of paintbrushes; even, as Claire warmed up to conversation, about the time Claire spent living in Illinois, where the seasons change with much more potency than here. Lunch ended, and Claire remembered to shut herself down, but Hael still finds herself smiling without thought, even two class periods later. Upon realizing this, she ducks her head, forces the smile away, and walks a little faster.

She's just happy she's making a new friend. That's all.

 

~*~

 

After another lunchtime conversation with Claire on Friday that warms Hael down to her bones, Hael is forced to admit that she, Hael Milton, the quiet, dutiful Christian girl, has a crush on Claire Novak, the rude, sarcastic loner-by-choice. This unwanted revelation keeps Hael preoccupied all through the weekend until, with her heart drooping in the direction of her toes, she takes a seat at her usual table for lunch on Monday instead of sitting with Claire.

Her throat is tight with guilt and disappointment when she says “Hi, guys,” and slips into the seat beside Raphael. She hopes her smile doesn't look as forced as it feels.

No such luck.

“What's got you so down?” Hester asks before Hael's bottom is even situated on the chair.

“What?” Hael asks, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

From beside her, Raphael snorts. “You know the time you asked Castiel to feed your goldfish while you were at camp?” Hael remembers. Castiel had promised her his help, and then neglected to follow through. She had been inconsolable. “You've got about the same expression.”

Hael smiles her brightest smile. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” she insists.

Raphael snorts again.

Hester demands to know if a boy is the cause of Hael's dismay. “I'll beat him up for you, if you want,” she offers.

“You should just ask him out,” Raphael says. “It's much more tolerable for the rest of us than years of forlorn pining.” Their pointed glance at Castiel goes unnoticed, as Castiel is occupied staring at his phone.

Without Hael's verbal confirmation, they've moved on with the assumption that Hael's trouble is one of the love-interest vein.

After a moment of deliberation, Hael reasons that she might as well admit defeat; arguing that she's not upset will serve only to prolong this conversation and to work her friends into more of an excitement. She bites her lip and fiddles with the zipper tab of her unopened lunchbox.

“Um,” she says. The weight of her heart in her throat makes it difficult to speak. “Well, it's not a boy—no, calm down, let me finish! It's not a boy, but it is, um.” Her cheeks feel warm. “It's a girl.”

Hester's eyes widen.

Raphael bumps her shoulder with their own, grinning at her. “Well?” they prompt. “What's her name?”

“Claire.”

“ _That_ Claire?” Hester asks.

Put on edge, Hael frowns. “What do you have against her?” she asks sharply.

“Nothing!” Hester is quick to assure her. “Just...is that really where you want to put your heart? I don't think she's dated anyone the whole time she's been here. And she's a senior now, right?”

Without realizing she'd been getting her hopes up, Hael feels them fall, so fast and hard that it's like her stomach has dropped down through the floor, leaving a hollowness that almost makes her gasp aloud. No matter how well their tiny budding friendship has been going, how could Hael allow herself to believe that Claire would want a different kind of relationship? She barely seems to want the friendship. If she hasn't been interested in dating anyone else, why would she be interested in _Hael_?

Hael must be as transparent as the plastic wrap that she unfolds her sandwich from, because Raphael is refuting Hester's words within a second.

“Hey,” they say, “that doesn't mean anything. Claire's never talked with anyone during lunch before, either, and you worked your way around that one pretty easily.”

The weight pressing down on Hael's chest lessens a little. “That's true,” she admits.

“You'll never know unless you talk to her about it,” Raphael prompts. “No use worrying without even involving the other party.”

“Yeah,” Hael says. Feeling a little better, she manages a real smile. “Yeah, you're right.” Then she looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “Um,” she says. “How do you...how exactly do you tell a girl you like her?”

Hester looks ponderous. “”Well,” she decides, “if it was a guy you were after, I'd say you should ask him to a movie after school sometime, and see how he reacts. I'd think with a girl it'd be pretty much the same.”

“You'll have to clarify at some point that you want it to be a date though,” Raphael adds. “It might not be obvious between two girls.”

“That's stupid,” Hael says.

Raphael snorts again. “Heteronormativity's a bitch.”

Hael smiles.

For a moment, she lets herself imagine a movie date with Claire. Maybe Claire would murmur sarcastic comments in her ear through the whole thing. Maybe they'd watch an action flick, and she would be captivated the whole time. Maybe a guarded, secret love of romcoms would be discovered. Maybe they'd get popcorn with extra butter; maybe their fingers would bump when they both went for a piece at the same time. The intensity of the warm, bubbly feeling that shivers through her entire torso at the thought is enough to tell her that yes, she has to ask.

“Hey, Cas?” Hael says. Blue eyes leave his phone screen long enough to look at her.

“Yeah?”

“You can watch Hannah tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Sure,” Cas says easily.

Hael beams at him. “Great!” she says. “That's great.” The cell phone has already regained Cas's undivided attention, but Hael doesn't mind. “Tomorrow I'm going to ask Claire to see a movie with me after school,” she announces. It's far beyond her power to keep the smile from her face.

 

~

 

On Monday, Hael sits with her church friends.

 _Good_ , Claire thinks, a little viciously. It's a reminder not to let her guard down. There's a reason hunters don't make friends; there's a reason Claire especially, the girl whose father up and walked out the front door one day and only came back once to bring literal demons down on their home, doesn't make friends. Call it daddy issues, call it fear of abandonment—whatever it is, it's served Claire well in her hunting career, and she doesn't plan to forget it all for some blue-eyed little choirgirl.

 

~*~

 

If there's one thing Hael can count on, it's Castiel being unreliable. Really, she should've known better than to expect him to follow through on his promise to babysit Hannah—in retrospect, she guesses she was too caught up in the nervous excitement that laced her visions of a date with Claire. Now he's feeding her some meaningless excuse about how Dean needs his help with a school project, it's urgent, really, and can't she just watch Hannah today and see a movie tomorrow?

“ _I_ need your help, Castiel!” she argues, but he's got his jaw set in the way that makes it clear he won't be moved. Hael feels anger swelling in her chest; gritting her teeth, she represses the urge to find something heavy and whack him over the head. “ _Fine_ ,” she spits. “You know what? Fine. I'll take Hannah with me this afternoon. I am _not_ letting your _stupid_ crush on Dean Winchester get in the way of my plans.”

Castiel begins muttering some vague denial, but Hael is already stalking out the door.

 

~

 

“Hello,” Hael says on Tuesday afternoon.

Claire skips right over “cow” and goes straight to “multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent who possesses your dear ones and then uses their mouth to tell you they don't know who you are.” In frigid, disdainful, unforgiving silence, she takes as dignified a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich as is possible.

Hael's twinkly smile fades, just a fraction. A sharp, cold satisfaction bursts in Claire's chest.

“How has your morning been?” Hael persists, an echo of their first conversation.

“Fantastic,” Claire says dryly. She takes another bite of her sandwich.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Hael says. As she unpacks her lunch, Claire might even say she looks disappointed. Which is stupid, really. Hael's the one who can come and go as she pleases, in this pseudo-relationship; Claire has every right to be mad at her. She's not being unfairly possessive. That, also, would be stupid. Claire isn't entitled to Hael's time and conversation. Claire isn't entitled to anything but her unrewarding hunting career and her credit card scams and the cramped little apartment that she can't really afford. So, yeah. It's reasonable to be mad at Hael. It's inconsiderate to pretend you're interested in someone, and then go laugh at the gruff loner girl with your Sunday School buddies the very next day.

“Well,” Hael says, carrying on cheerily as though Claire isn't doing her best to radiate cold unfriendliness, “my morning was excellent. My brother made pancakes this morning. Michael makes the best pancakes.”

It's quite likely that there's nothing in the universe that Claire cares about  _less_  than Hael's brother's pancakes.

“You should come over and try them sometime. I'm sure Michael wouldn't mind.”

Claire almost, almost forgets about her vow of silence. At the last moment, she catches herself, and settles for raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Hael peels back the foil lid to her single serving applesauce with careful, delicate fingers. Claire finds herself watching. Hael's hands are far more interesting than they have any right to be.

“And then I had my Algebra class, which is my favorite,” Hael plows on. A plastic spoon is lifted by those gentle fingers; pink lips pause in their speech as Hael takes a bite of her applesauce. “And then Spanish, which I like because it's kind of like Portuguese, and that's what Anna learned before she went to Brazil.” She takes another bite of applesauce.

Claire is almost done with her grilled cheese. She wonders if it would be rude to get up and leave as soon as she's done. She hopes so.

“And I have English and Orchestra after lunch, and then I'm taking my little sister Hannah to the movies. Michael has to study tonight, and Cas is busy, so I'm watching Hannah. It should be fun.”

Does this girl ever stop talking?

“Hannah's really cute. She's almost seven now. I think you'd like her. She's very smart.”

To Claire's surprise, Hael stops short. Mouth still open, she pauses; then she closes her mouth and ducks her head. From across the table, Claire can see the warm pink that's overtaking her pale cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” Hael says. When she looks up, her smile is back in place. It's a small smile this time, a little less radiant, and a little softer. “I ramble when I'm nervous.”

Claire raises both her eyebrows this time.

“Um,” Hael says. The ruddiness spreads across her cheeks, looking like she applied her make up that morning with an overly heavy hand. “Um, I thought... I thought maybe you'd like to come with us to the movies this afternoon? I mean, I get it if that's not really your...thing—we'd have to see a kids' show, because of Hannah, but I thought maybe you'd like to come along anyway? Um.” She seems spooked by Claire's silence. Makes sense, Claire supposes. “Never mind. I'm sorry for asking.”

They go back to eating in quiet.

Claire finishes her grilled cheese, but she doesn't leave the table. Hael finishes her applesauce and packs up her lunchbox. The bell rings. Hael stands, and turns—

“What kinda movies is your sister into?” Claire asks before she can stop herself.

Hael turns back, blinking, lips parted. “Does that mean you'll come?”

Claire makes herself shrug, even though all of a sudden her heart is beating just a little too fast. “Yeah, why not?” she says.

When Hael smiles at her, she smiles right on back.

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://kirargent.tumblr.com/post/107559514191/holyhael-aka-maddi-aka-my-fave-person-in-the)


End file.
